tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-140093782016-11-21T04:28:10.099-08:00ZonaA Beacon on a Hillsinnernoreply@blogger.comBlogger1836125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-10487633590809937572011-05-21T00:17:00.001-07:002011-05-21T00:17:48.924-07:00The End<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/234313491/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/87/234313491_1b41cee4a9.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/234313491/">Baby picture</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> This is my last post. Nobody reads this thing except for my mother and half the time the things I say here worry her to the point where she calls or emails.<br /><br />When I started it was fun. It just isn't anymore. One day I may have it all printed out and hidden in a box for someone to find when I'm gone.<br /><br />You've been a wonderful audience. Good night.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-22702194401563487202011-05-13T10:51:00.001-07:002011-05-13T10:51:33.496-07:003 nice rainbows<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5714780308/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2451/5714780308_55720271ec.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5714780308/">3 nice rainbows</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> So I did something I haven't done in at least ten years, I went fishing. I always say there's a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore like an idiot. Since life, on many occasions, has proven me out to be an idiot I like fishing.<br /><br />I REALLY like catching I've never caught three fish this big so I REALLY liked it. Parts for the frying pan and parts for the garden.<br /><br />I'm taking baby steps to get back into fishing and plan on working up to actually catching fish besides trout. Laziness kept me from catching salmon while I spent 5 years in British Columbia.<br /><br />Fishing in Utah is pretty easy when you consider several lakes and rivers are within an hour's drive or so from the house and it's easy to buy a pole, hooks, bait, and a license. <br /><br />What I really look forward to now is taking my grandkids fishing.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-26637420539374003992011-04-15T13:19:00.001-07:002011-04-15T13:19:18.403-07:00Youth wasted on the young<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5622161863/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5026/5622161863_7ffe2f4705.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5622161863/">Youth wasted on the young</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> My son was exiting southbound I-15 onto the Bangerter Freeway south of Salt Lake. A little too fast. A little too head-up-butt. The car hit the curve curb. This curb is twice as high as your standard curb. The car careened to the right as he fought to control it. He lost. At some point the air bags deployed and as you can see, the left front wheel was completely sheered off.<br /><br />The car, turned mostly by the curved curb impacted the center divider proceed for a bit down the fast lane and then crashed again into the center divider.<br /><br />My phone vibrated and lit up with Robert's name and I knew what had happened. Somewhere early in the conversation I asked if anybody was hurt. <br /><br />"No." <br />"Are YOU hurt?" <br />"No."<br /><br />By the time I arrived the ambulance had come and gone and I surveyed the damage before greeting the Utah Highway Patrolman. He cited Robert for failure to maintain a lane and not for speeding despite all evidence that he had been.<br /><br />The tow truck showed up and took my beautiful red sled away. The wheel remains unlocated.<br /><br />Today I picked up the check after the adjuster declared the vehicle a total loss. $4,397.30.<br /><br />When we bought the car it had 18,000 miles. When Robert and I walked away from it the odometer was about 160,000. We got a lot of use out of him. I refer to the car as "him" because it had a real set of balls. You stepped on the gas and said "let's go" and he replied "okay".<br /><br />I'm gonna miss this one. We sped together on some of the best roads in BC, Washington, Utah, and Arizona. <br /><br />Damn damn damn.<br /><br />Goodbye old friend, and thanks for saving my boy's life. A lesser car, and we'd be in far worse shape today.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-63476158354620577452011-03-24T10:11:00.000-07:002011-03-24T10:38:09.634-07:00my church is crazy anal about membership records. they called me at 7:30 in the too early AM for me one morning. I have caller ID so I didn't answer. I was about to go back to sleep in my room at my mother's house when I heard my mother's phone ring. "he don't answer. let's call his mother". <br /><br />they've lost my daughter's membership records. she's out somewhere in records purgatory and alarms are sounding in the church office building in Salt Lake City. they MUST find her.<br /><br />I'm wondering how they got MY phone number since I didn't give it to them. maybe I don't wanna know?<br /><br />so we eliminated all the possibilities that they were really cops in disguise, or creditors in costumes, and after they call my mother again my wife ends up talking to them. I don't want them to detect apostasy in my voice and shred MY records. I don't attend church anymore but hey, everyone needs an ace in the hole. my wife gives them some info on where she thinks Ilsen's records might be. you see, the church sends them around to where you attend.<br /><br />Ilsen's can't be found. who knows HOW they even know her records are lost. they want her address but we're still reluctant to give it to them.<br /><br />so yesterday I'm being driven over bumpy dirt roads after qualifying with my gun near the Mexican border when my phone vibrates.<br /><br />it's the church.<br /><br />Ilsen's records have been found in the Salt Lake City central records office. I'm so relieved! <br /><br />they STILL want her address.<br /><br />cops? creditors?<br /><br />I tell the lady to call me back in two hours so I can write down the 1-800 number she's trying to give me. she doesn't.<br /><br />last night my sister and I were texting back and forth about American Idol so my phone was on noise instead of vibrate when the church called me this morning...<br /><br />at 7:30<br /><br />they must think all Mormons are early risers. I see the number on the display. that's how I know it's them. I open and close my phone, put it on vibrate, and go back to sleep.<br /><br />I wonder if my records got shreddedsinnernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-30223256840356597032011-03-20T10:10:00.001-07:002011-03-20T10:10:24.070-07:00Perigee Moon<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5541929573/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5013/5541929573_1bc0285a7f.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5541929573/">Perigee Moon</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> Big moon. Me take picture</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-73350200943001374012011-03-17T12:12:00.001-07:002011-03-17T12:12:49.233-07:00my fave SONORAN hot dog<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5535514304/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5059/5535514304_6ce65453e9.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5535514304/">my fave SONORAN hot dog</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> that place on 22nd. I don't know the name of that particular stand but to most Tucsonans you just need to say "that place on 22nd" and then narrow it down to "the one on the big dirt lot" and they'll know.<br /><br />the local rag had a competition not long ago to determine the best Sonoran hot dog in Tucson and the idiots picked a Sinoloan hot dog. the difference is the bun on a Sinoloan dog is toasted.<br /><br />I've had the dog at the Sinoloan place and this one has twice the flavor. gotta be the quality of the ingredients.<br /><br />the place on 22nd also has a complete menu of other items including a wonderful tongue burrito</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-22090345395956725472011-03-15T11:56:00.001-07:002011-03-15T11:56:42.695-07:00The good ol' days<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5529938132/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5093/5529938132_d20e71d96b.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5529938132/">The good ol' days</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> when I was a kid golf was a bit different on the Tucson municipal courses. this is one of the few remaining signs of that era. (located at El Rio golf course) there were also signs in the 9th and 18th tee boxes that reminded golfers to put their shirts back on when approaching the clubhouse. I remember quite a few summer days where I played a round in cut-offs with my tee shirt stuffed into the back pocket.<br /><br />I shoot a slightly better score these days but I haven't played without a shirt in a long long time. I enjoy golf because I don't care to practice or improve. it's not required. there is no pressure. I like to hit good shots, I love to swear, I love some of the trick shots I'm required to hit. I prefer to play alone but a good conversation is also welcome.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-1401730376780693322011-03-08T14:11:00.001-08:002011-03-08T14:11:07.769-08:00hard on myself and the drama don't help<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5509573478/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5294/5509573478_059eae568f.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5509573478/">Sunrise with Venus over the Santa Ritas</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I have just over 2 weeks left on this TDY and I have never felt more burned out. I feel like I have accomplished nothing except dig a bigger hole sometimes. The drama of the situation with the locals and rotating shifts and pressure and cameras at every angle have take a toll.<br /><br />It's hard to sum up the good and balance it out. There has been good. Dinners with mom and my sister and her family and a great b-day present and other things but I will always feel I've fallen short of putting myself in a better situation.<br /><br />Culture shock in my spirit is hard to overcome and coming back to the borderlands will be hard to reconcile. I am in need of serious detox and will hopefully get it as Spring nears at home and the garden awaits to distract me.<br /><br />No way I thought it would be this hard and no way I ever stay as long again.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-66989970608530477072011-03-03T16:02:00.001-08:002011-03-03T16:02:28.890-08:00<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5495063115/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5294/5495063115_8ef92423c9.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5495063115/"></a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I can't remember what this sign was for but I remember when it wasn't all busted up. I wanna say it was a restaurant but I'm not sure</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-86851574069058130522011-01-30T06:20:00.001-08:002011-01-30T06:20:51.496-08:00100 years ago<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5399209625/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5177/5399209625_0e8e1cf550.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5399209625/">100 years ago</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I love old cemeteries. they open up my imagination as to who the people were and how they lived, how they were loved, and how they became left behind only marked by monuments for us to see so many years later.<br /><br />I wonder how they lived and loved and it strips me down to basic emotion without all the accessories. <br /><br />Many lived long, many gone way too young, and who were the mourners on that day and how was the weather?<br /><br />The only markers I've seen that had a cause of death were those who died violently. "Killed by Indians", "Massacred", "Hung by Mistake".<br /><br />There was one exception for the woman who died in child birth in 1777 in Savannah, Georgia. I wept for her. I mourn all, but I wept for her.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-25067290833613852842011-01-12T10:51:00.001-08:002011-01-12T10:51:24.581-08:00My hometown is heartbroken<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5344141241/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5202/5344141241_a79d140cce.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5344141241/"></a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> Gabrielle Giffords lies in a hospital and, according to doctors, will survive her gunshot wound to the head.<br /><br />The President flies in for a memorial at the McKale Center on the University of Arizona campus today.<br /><br />Tomorrow a 9 year-old victim will be laid to rest.<br /><br />One of the elderly victims died when he used his body to shield his wife from bullets. She suffered 3 gunshots to her leg.<br /><br />Jon Stewart said that even though politics probably didn't play a roll it's troubling when the ramblings of the mentally troubled killer aren't too dissimilar to the rhetoric of those on the right.<br /><br />Tom Brokaw said that we have to buy small bottles of shampoo to take onboard airplanes but the killer was able to buy a gun.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-44282328768966841792011-01-09T09:18:00.000-08:002011-01-09T09:25:45.670-08:00Mexico boundTons of pickup trucks loaded with second-hand goods have headed to Mexico since I've been here. Most were part of the annual "Paisano" or "CalMex" holidays parade of Mexicans living the the US who head down to the interior to visit family. Some are a big group of more local Mexican residents who go to yard sales and swap meets to by used items to re-sell at their second hand stores.<br /><br />The most common items are washers and dryers and bicycles. Bicycles and large toys such as plastic kitchens for little girls always bring a smile to my face. I always imagine the joy on the faces of kids whose parents can't afford new items but buy these used toys that are as good as new to a child who receives them.sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-3583000398467872162011-01-03T18:56:00.001-08:002011-01-03T18:56:56.565-08:004 stars<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5322494302/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5242/5322494302_664b1c39f0.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5322494302/">4 stars</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I am in my room and my wife is in the air back to Utah. I am my own man again. Of course it was good to have her here for the holidays and she DID enjoy the Tiffany ring I gave her for her birthday. I finally feel like I got her something she deserves. I hate the holidays because I never feel like I was good enough to the family but this year I feel really good about what I was able to do for Magaly on her 50th.<br /><br />So I'm alone again and I don't have to worry about anyone but me in town. I can relax and get back to working some overtime and raking in the do re mi.<br /><br />It has been some time since I traveled. I used to travel 2-3 times a year and I ALWAYS love a hotel where I can see the TV from the toilet. Wifi is a huge plus too.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-59356514694520332362010-12-30T22:15:00.001-08:002010-12-30T22:15:21.218-08:00The Border<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5263393141/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5129/5263393141_4c6a88b509.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5263393141/">The Border</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I am in Nogales, Arizona working on the border. I signed up for 60 days and now am extending for another 60. Magaly came down to spend her birthday and the holidays with me. The weather has been nice but turned cold.<br /><br />I have a room with a two burner electric stove, a fridge, a microwave, and wifi. Today I bought a toaster oven. Simple meals is the key and overtime is the popular activity.<br /><br />What I like about TDY's is that I meet people from all over the country. Not too many are as old as I am and I see a lot of bright eyes and bushy tails.<br /><br />Car exhaust and burning trash dumps in Mexico is a big reason I left the southern border. It's interesting to be back.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-42873459976505945132010-11-23T17:01:00.000-08:002010-11-24T18:44:57.322-08:00The trial is adjourned for ThanksgivingA few weeks ago I walked into a Federal Courtroom. I had been assigned a number and we had been placed in order. There were 35 of us. Federal Courtrooms are quite large. This one was all wood paneled with large portraits of former judges on the walls. Everyone was standing except for the judge. When I got in the room I was struck by what I heard. A man was singing. He was singing a hymn. I knew it was a man even though the voice sounded like a small boy. Never has such a soft sound pierced me to the core like that. But it wasn't just the voice, it was the source of the voice, the circumstance of the voice. The voice belonged to the defendant, Brian David Mitchell.<br /><br />Brian David Mitchell is accused of kidnapping Elizabeth Smart from her home, keeping her captive, and raping her daily for the period of nine months.<br /><br />When we had all reached our places the Clerk of the Court told everyone they could be seated. The Judge told the defendant that he had a constitutional right to be present during the proceedings but he would have him removed unless he stopped singing. He didn't and we waited while he was removed and taken to a room with a video feed. Then I and the other prospective jurors were sworn in. All but one of us were then excused and went back to the juror's lounge to wait our turn to be questioned by the attorneys in the case. I would wait all day until the court adjourned. I would return the next day and along with some new people, wait until my turn came to take the stand.<br /><br />That night I received a phone call telling me to return again the next day. I was in the pool of 30 from which the 12 jurors and 2 alternates would be selected. We would again walk into the courtroom to the sound of singing. I sat behind the court artist and watched her drawing the defendant in chalk. Mitchell was lead out again and I watched him leave. When I turned back to the artist I caught sight of something that pushed me back on my seat. Elizabeth Smart, her sister, and her parents took seats two rows in front of me.<br /><br />Since her kidnapping and recovery eight years ago Elizabeth Smart graduated from Brigham Young University. She is serving as a Mormon Missionary in Paris and was brought home for the trial. Elizabeth is a beautiful young woman and has a glow to her that made me think that this is not a woman who was kidnapped and raped. She smiled at someone and her smile was like that of an angel.<br /><br />The Judge explained what was going to happen next. All the juror's numbers were on two sheets of blue paper that would now be passed back and forth between the prosecutors and the defense attorneys. They would be eliminating jurors until there were 14 numbers left. They would look at the blue papers, then their notes, and sometimes at us until they had the final 14. The papers were handed to the Judge. He looked at them then handed them back to the clerk. <br /><br />The clerk announced that as she read the numbers she would be assigning new numbers to the jurors. She asked that any juror rise if his or her number was called. Then she started. The numbers came toward my number and then passed by. The man sitting next to me stood up. When there were 14 jurors standing the rest of us stood so that the jurors could make their way to the juror's box. I walked out of the courtroom and the trial began.<br /><br />I walked out of the courthouse and took the train back to where I parked my car and then drove home.sinnernoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-29359946334837478352010-11-09T14:11:00.001-08:002010-11-09T14:11:12.968-08:00Teddy's down on his luck<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/2231527037/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2278/2231527037_d8b90dfda7.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/2231527037/">Teddy's down on his luck</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> Since the Olympics Vancouver has been cleaning up East Hastings. This park no longer exists as you see it here. The problems still exist. They've just moved them</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-43446262906458723172010-10-07T10:34:00.000-07:002010-10-18T17:47:06.051-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQuyezI0ONg/TK4FCXAFJ5I/AAAAAAAAAYo/EoK7LCnfDog/s1600/IMG_3105.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_MQuyezI0ONg/TK4FCXAFJ5I/AAAAAAAAAYo/EoK7LCnfDog/s400/IMG_3105.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525359330922407826" /></a><br /><br />We have a mouse in the house. Down in the basement storage room. I want it's ass dead. I'm on it. We enemies and since it can't set no trap for me.....<br /><br />UPDATE: Mouse ??/??/??-10/18/10. I hope there's lots of cheese in mouse heaven.sinnernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-43475410770796666902010-10-04T00:16:00.001-07:002010-10-04T00:16:11.469-07:00My sons<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5050407326/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4085/5050407326_d38003942b.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5050407326/">My sons</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I love my daughters, but I envy my sons.<br /><br />I look at them and see what they're doing at this stage of their lives and I envy them. <br /><br />One is 25. I told him that I thought he was farther along than I was at 25 and he mentioned that I was married at 25 and waiting for the birth of my first child.<br /><br />But then I mentioned that I was living in the third world and broke without a clue of what I would do. He, I told him, was living two blocks from the beach in Vancouver, BC. He learned to play the drums and had recorded with two bands albeit the recording were not heard by many people. He toured Canada and Japan with one band. I dreamt of those kinda things. He's doing it. <br /><br />He has a decent job, an awesome apartment, and a girl who adores him. I had the third of those.<br /><br />The other is 19. He's in college full time and has a nice ride at his disposal. He wants to be a chef and he works hard in the culinary program at Utah Valley University. He's had jobs and saved up for the cool electronic games. he bought his knives and uniforms and has brought home breads and a pie which he made and they were all fabulous. He fell just short of a goal he had to make a touring culinary team but I'm am very proud of him.<br /><br />At 19 I was going nowhere and decided to do a two-year Mormon Mission. That was no small feat mind you but it did not require what university does.<br /><br />I don't think any father is perfect and I have many regrets of little things I did or didn't do when raising them. I wish I could go back and hug the little guys more and maybe say, "yeah, you can have that". But I can't. <br /><br />We all wish we could go back 10, or 20, or even 30 years knowing what we know now. I kinda did that through my sons sometimes. I told them that girls were not to be feared. I told them to always tell a girl how they felt when they had strong feelings and if they got rejected, or laughed at, to shrug and move on knowing what happened instead of later wondering what would have happened. And they did.<br /><br />I'm proud of both of them and I envy them.<br /><br />But in my envy I see two young men who are where they are because of where I took them, where I lead them, what I was able to provide for them, and show them, and teach them. (along with their mother of course)<br /><br />And I realize that I did okay.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-44499086121209194832010-10-03T23:31:00.001-07:002010-10-03T23:31:04.351-07:00The interior of my deterioration<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5036119435/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4125/5036119435_9630f9924c.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5036119435/">Wonderful</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> Every night lately I've been having vivid dreams which I remember. Dreams I used to forget. Lucid random electronic synapses that the brain uses to entertain itself during sleep. These dreams are the usual off kilter activities. Things that should work either don't work or work abnormally. Maybe it's my subconscious telling me, warning me, that I should be more wary of stress I'm repressing. Or here's a thought I just came up with. Maybe these dreams are doing to my brain what tears do through my eyes. Maybe they're leaching toxins from my soul.<br /><br />As I write this, the memories of these dreams are fading into blank.<br /><br />I sit here in the dark on my sofa. I should be asleep but I'm exhilarated to be draining thought. Like standing and throwing my arms upward and back. Tossing away thought that should concern me. Everyday worry that will be back in the morning, but not right now. Now is my time to show brash bravado. To dare a world I know won't answer right now, but later will come down like a thumb.<br /><br />The best of my plans fall short lately. I'm in a hurry to get there like a child. But there's no there out there anymore. I want to run off to see friends, female friends, but the plan in my mind, the daydream, are laid to waste whenever I get close. Some beckon and call but we seem to live in opaque bubbles and though are bubbles my come close or even bump into each other, we remain unable to see and isolated. <br /><br />Why can't people see what I see? Why can't they trust what I trust? I've had two people tell me others told them. So I cut loose and shake my head. Focus on what you see, not what you fear.<br /><br />I just had a ghost brush by and turn around. It's still here but they never show themselves to me. They just let me feel they're there. Now it's gone.<br /><br />Be patient, I'll get there. It just might take a little longer now. And for those who passed me by, you're at the back of the line again. I've always had this fault, this flaw, where people are more important to me than I am to them. That's okay though. I'm a forgiving sort. <br /><br />Maybe because it's not that big a deal to worry myself with.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-3860081570444026852010-10-02T19:52:00.001-07:002010-10-02T19:52:22.276-07:00Mormon Conference, SLC<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5045483025/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4147/5045483025_282aa31e30.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5045483025/"></a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I am off on Saturdays so I told Maggie to get some Conference tickets for the 2PM session. She scored a pair from the bishop. I knew the weather was going to be great so I figured we'd picnic "old school" in Temple Square while listening to the early session.<br /><br />We got to Temple Square about 9:30. Maggie noticed that the grass was kinda damp so we sat on a bench. We were soon approached by a pair of sister missionaries. They were after referrals. So Conference starts and we move to a dry spot on the lawn between the Tabernacle and the Meeting House where we can hear better.<br /><br />I've been around a couple of times to take photos of the sideshow of street preachers outside but now I have my zoom lens on and am shooting kids. Maggie is enjoying watching a couple of toddlers while we listen to Conference. Two more sisters come up to chat us up and try for some referrals. About 30 minutes later two more.<br /><br />So we haven't heard too much of the first session but that's no big deal. Maggie can watch the rerun later. What we have determined by this point though, is that we are too old and creaky to be sitting on the ground. We move to another bench in the shade.<br /><br />I make another photo run and when I come back, Maggie's holding a baby. Maggie has found a girl from our ward in Vancouver and the two are talking. She leaves to find her other friends so Maggie and I eat our sammiches and tater salad. Soon enough it's our turn to go into the Conference Center.<br /><br />I am telling you, this place is impressive. It's immaculate inside. We find seats and the choir walks in and goes through it's warm-up. I am totally stoked because there ARE NO small children allowed in and I don't have to worry about a concert malady of people holding up cell phone cameras in front of me, or singing bad, or tapping my seat out of time. I see old folks who probably saw David O McCay speak in the Tabernacle, and I see young couples. Some camera flashes are going off, and some people are talking on cell phones, oh, and I see a girl with her top cut kinda low. Not too low mind you, but just low enough so that I can see the top of the tattoo on her left breast. I look down and see that she has her entire left arm outlined for the complete sleeve job. This girl doesn't look ANYTHING like the kind of girl that would have these types of tattoos.<br /><br />Ah youth.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-23922303154074298862010-10-02T19:51:00.001-07:002010-10-02T19:51:02.606-07:00<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5046097700/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4112/5046097700_12a48d7277.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5046097700/"></a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> The people sitting next to us ask if we wouldn't mind switching seats with their branch president. So we end up on the main floor. People rise as some of the Apostles walk in and take their seats. I see something that ALWAYS make me laugh. An idiot is on a cell phone and waiving her hand. "look, I'm waving now, see me? down HERE". Then there are three more waving. Morons! I look where the General Authorities are seated and Elders Packer and Perry are TEXTING on their Blackberries. SO cool.<br /><br />Now EVERYBODY rises as President Monson enters with his counsellors and they take their seats.<br /><br />Conference begins and I am disappointed to find out the choir I assumed was the Tabernacle Choir, isn't. It's a family choir from Sandy and Draper, but let me tell you, they were wonderful. I voted to sustain everybody and thank some people. There are a couple of "are you kidding me?" moments as I see camera flashes during the session. I will admit to two "I woke up when my head nodded" moments. I felt bad for the two 10 year-old girls seated in front of me who were completely bored.<br /><br />The session ends and we head out. There are 25,000 people moving on sidewalks outside and some idiots STILL decide to stop and chat, blocking half the sidewalk. ARRRRGH! We go back into Temple Square to grab the cooler and a backpack with my camera. I HATE crowds and trying to move through/with them and I'm kinda thinking it isn't worth the hassle, but then I see a guy playing a cello as the throng moves by.<br /><br />I smile, grab my camera, and start shooting. Then I went over and tossed three dollars into the cello case. "Thank you" he says. The song he was playing?<br /><br />I am a child of God.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-60709363490146902642010-09-22T22:10:00.001-07:002010-10-02T05:56:21.861-07:00<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5013894540/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4124/5013894540_8359333a21.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/5013894540/">Phone Booth Reality</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> I was eating at Applebees and heard a guy order a jagermeister and red bull. I used to tend bar and trust me, IF I made that drink, I would throw it at whoever ordered it.<br /><br />I drove from Vancouver to Salt lake in one shot, again. That's 1000 miles if you're keeping score at home. Stopped to pee, chat, (45 minutes) nap (90 minutes) and eat. (60 minutes) it took 21 hours.<br /><br />It was great, as always, to see the middle kids in Vancouver. Wanted to see more people but it didn't work out. That rarely does.</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-4133223228429968112010-09-05T21:59:00.000-07:002010-09-05T22:04:50.440-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQuyezI0ONg/TIR1YCsDs8I/AAAAAAAAAYU/3J4EHoHD_zw/s1600/IMG_2678.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_MQuyezI0ONg/TIR1YCsDs8I/AAAAAAAAAYU/3J4EHoHD_zw/s400/IMG_2678.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513660899707302850" /></a><br /><br />My daughter Jennifer got remarried on Saturday. It was a small, simple ceremony. Luckily the groom's sister had her camera and was clicking away so I didn't have to worry about it. The little ones are very excited about their new daddy. My granddaughter has never seen her biological father so it's especially exciting for her. <br /><br />We have the kids with us for a few days so the newlyweds can have a few days to themselves.sinnernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-48127651535701329792010-09-01T21:12:00.000-07:002010-09-01T21:21:12.597-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MQuyezI0ONg/TH8kzURe_rI/AAAAAAAAAYM/TiwwiA6EdOo/s1600/IMG_9932.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_MQuyezI0ONg/TH8kzURe_rI/AAAAAAAAAYM/TiwwiA6EdOo/s400/IMG_9932.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512164932958748338" /></a><br /><br />We learned that my Aunt Teresa passed away 10 days ago. Sometimes news from Bolivia is late getting to us because it's too expensive for them to call us.<br /><br />My Aunt Teresa loved me like no other aunt that I have and I loved her right back. I saw her in May when I was in Bolivia and now I am very glad that I did. My Uncle Lucho passed away a couple of years ago not long after I took this photo. His kidneys were failing and his death wasn't unexpected.<br /><br />My Aunt's death was a sad surprise.<br /><br />Vaya con Dios Tia.sinnernoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14009378.post-48960824129412446792010-08-24T18:21:00.001-07:002010-08-24T18:21:40.996-07:00The Opposite Of Sunset<style type="text/css">.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/4923966285/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4075/4923966285_787d773c11.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zonaboy/4923966285/">The Opposite Of Sunset</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/zonaboy/">Dan Lilly</a>.</span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> sometimes the evening is a pastel mistress that takes us quietly as the sun flees for the day.<br /><br />sometimes the moon is a quiet romance contrast to the sun's shouting arrogant glare.<br /><br />sometimes the quiet solitude is a welcome change to the daily garden parties.<br /><br />even though in conceals the noises<br />even though it hides the meanings<br />even though it invites the mystery</p>sinnernoreply@blogger.com3